[Erotica] The Girl at the Gate


#MasturbationMonday, Erotica, Fantasy, Myth, Horror Erotica / Saturday, October 5th, 2019

Image by Purple’s Gem and originally posted as Secret Garden. If you’ve never visited their site you are missing out, gorgeous images, fabulous writings and plenty to inspire sexy stories, just as this image has …

‘Tell me a story’ he whispered. His voice soft, his breathe tickling against my neck, as his hand meandered softly across my skin whilst we lay tangled up in bed, the moonlight streaming in through the window, a soft breeze causing the blinds to flutter. 

‘Did I ever tell you about the girl I met at the gate on Highmoor Estate?’ 

‘What? No! I didn’t even know you’d been to Highmoor?’

His eyes widened at this news, the fact I’d been to the derelict estate was clearly of interest to him. The idea of anyone coming into contact with another person there was the stuff of fairytales, rarely did anyone set foot on the grounds any more, so for two people to be there at once? Well, that was quite something. 

‘It was about 4 years ago, I’d been down to Highmoor to take some pictures, the grounds are breathtaking. Even overgrown and unloved they still provide beautiful scenery for photography. All along the boundary walls, there are many gates and many pathways, as I approached one of the gates I saw a woman, about my age, perhaps a little younger, seemingly lost in thought as she leaned upon the gate I needed to go through.

Now, by this point, I knew the grounds very well and I knew that going back on myself would add a lot of time onto my outing and dusk was not far away. I hated to disturb her but going forward really was the only option. Those grounds in broad daylight are one thing but at night? No way, I was risking that. 

I proceeded forward, wondering how best to make my presence known when the autumn leaves and falling twigs underfoot did my job for me. She turned around as my feet crunched through the undergrowth and to say she looked startled at my being there was an understatement, she looked horrified, honestly as if she had seen a ghost. I felt awful for her and couldn’t apologise quick enough. Whilst no one lives there any more, I know some of the family still live in the area and I was worried she might think I was intruding if she was part of the Highmoor lineage. 

It turns out she was a Highmoor and she visited the grounds often and knew them inside out. We got to talking and I started to go back to meet her there. Week after week, as autumn turned to winter and winter turned to spring. It was in the spring as flowers began to sprout and long coats turned to summer dresses that there seemed to be a shift in our friendship. 

One day I realised I couldn’t imagine leaving without kissing her. Her lips were full and a soft rose pink and the were beautiful against the pale tones of her skin, she was absolutely flawless, with long hair cascading down her back and breasts that caught my eye even under what was definitely a very conservative summer dress. 

Eventually as we lay in the grass together I found the courage to lace my fingers into hers, again she looked startled and for a moment I panicked that I’d read the situation all wrong but as she tentatively touched my face with her other hand she visibly relaxed and that change was all the encouragement I needed to kiss her. 

We made love in the grass for what felt like the most perfect eternity. I explored every inch of her perfect skin, she was impossibly beautiful, there was not a blemish or crease in sight, I marvelled at how smooth she was, how silky her hair felt. When we had finished and I lay there breathless and sweaty whilst she still looked impeccable, I joked that she must surely be an angel because no mere mortal could be that precious. 

I remember how she giggled and hid her face behind her hands, clearly embarrassed by my compliments. Right there and then I realised I was in love with her. We met every week through summer, and it was nearly a year since our meeting when I asked to photograph her. I knew every inch of her body, I knew the taste of her mouth and the sweetness of her cunt. I knew how it felt to have her cool, silky skin against my own, as her breathing remained inaudible beneath my touch even though her body writhed urgently against my own. I knew all those things but I wanted more, I wanted to be able to see her when she was gone and she had already told me she would have to go away soon. 

I was heartbroken but I knew a visual memory of her would be precious and to my absolute delight, she agreed. Towards the end of our time together we went back to that gate where we first met and she shed her clothes and posed for me as if she had done it a thousand times before. I wanted these photos to be special, so I opted to go old school, using film in my camera, wanting the process of developing them myself to be my parting gift to her.’

‘Hang on, you spent almost a year with her? Never took her back to your place? And have never once mentioned her to me, even though you were in love with her? What on earth did she do you?’

I loved how enthralled he got when I told him my tales, his eyes sparkling, his hands increasing their tempo as the story increased in excitement. Stories that involved tales of my cunt, or someone else’s never failed in directing his hand to that very spot, circling my clit and trailing his fingers through my wet slit as I continued my story between gasps and moans. There was one kind of story that always got his cock that little bit harder though and resulted in my being thoroughly well fucked and he never saw them coming and it appeared that this tale was no different. 

‘Well, she was a very special kind of girl and our time together really isn’t the sort of thing you can just share with someone randomly. They need to be interested or it just doesn’t translate very well. So where was I? That’s it, I was taking her pictures and even though I didn’t have my digital camera and couldn’t flick through and make amendments to poses for the perfect shot it didn’t matter because I just knew I was capturing something amazing. She was perfect and I’ve never felt the thrill I did that day when taking anyone else’s picture before. The atmosphere between us was electric, poignant and beautifully bittersweet and I could tell she felt it too, every time she looked at me her eyes fixed on mine and her mouth seemed poised to say words she failed to utter. 

When we parted that day she held me longer, kissed me harder and her fingers seemed desperate not leave my own. I told her I’d be back the following week though to give her some of the images to take with her and she smiled a waved me off as I headed to my car. 

I started developing the photos as soon as I got home, how could I possibly wait a moment longer than necessary to see her beauty captured for all of time. When I was able to look at the final images I was baffled, something had gone very wrong, I had images but they weren’t of her.’

‘What? Who were they of?’

‘Nobody. There was nothing there. I had the scenery, the gate, the trees, the leaves and where she stood nothing but a haze that blurred the image slightly in the spot where I should have been seeing her gorgeous hair falling down her bare back to her perfect bottom.’ 

‘What? What went wrong? How is that even possible?’

‘It wasn’t an issue with the photography or development process. She simply didn’t exist in a way that could be photographed. I went back to see her, to confirm my suspicions but she wasn’t there, well she was there but knowing what I knew I couldn’t see her, I could feel her, but the spell had been broken, knowing she was not something to be seen made my mind blind to her.’

‘Are you saying she was a ghost? You fucked a ghost?’

‘You decide. The following week I did all the research I could on people who had lived at the Highmoor estate and I came across a young woman who had been forcibly removed from the house in the dark of night, in the middle of winter and later they found her body slumped against the very gate we met at. It explains a lot that the woman I met wasn’t of this earth in the same way you and I are.’

His cock hardened against my thigh, the ghosts always got him going, though he never knew whether to believe in them or not. He jumped as the cool breeze picked up a little causing the blinds to shudder as the wind rippled past them, he composed himself though and manoeuvred himself, cock nestled against my cunt, already wet from the memories of those days spent in the long overgrown grass of the Highmoor Estate. 

‘Fuck your hands are cold.’

I chuckled as my warm hands moved from under the pillow to the curve of his backside and he froze, his eyes wide with horror, as he stared at me, clearly desperate for those cool, icy hands to be a trick of his imagination. 

‘I never actually said we parted ways, of course, she thought we’d have to, how many people would return to visit a potential spirit. I did though, week after week, from that day until this and we found a way to make it work. To bring her home with me, when it’s too cold for me in the grounds of Highmoor.’ 

Even in his terror, he was still hard and I watched him gasp, falling back against his heels, kneeling between my thighs, a hairsbreadth away from my wet cunt, as the soft flesh of his cock seemingly moved of its own accord, back and forth, back and forth, causing his gasps of pleasure to increase and deep moans to pulled from his belly. He told me over and over again that he couldn’t, that this was too freaky, begging me to tell him how I was doing it, to stop, to press my warm body against his, to end the chill to tell him it was all a silly ghost story. 

I sat and I watched though and I let my spectral lover make him come and though I couldn’t see her I could feel her excitement and her arousal seeping through the air and washing over me. The soft chill of her love for me settling as always upon my lips and when he lay beside me, covered in his own spunk and muttering incoherently as he begged me for answers, the blinds shuddered once more as she left us. Until the next time she visited that was. 

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